


For These Cold Days

by Emiza



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragon Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani, F/F, First Meetings, Folklore, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Rime Sombra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 13:05:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13167516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emiza/pseuds/Emiza
Summary: A long time ago, Satya greeted Death like a stranger, and it earned her a second chance and a step into a world right next to the mortal one. She destroyed everything that had brought her pain, and watched as a new city rose from its ashes. But not only humans found their home in this new city, but fairies and witches too.And as winter arrives, so does a spirit of Rime.





	For These Cold Days

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello!   
> This is my Secret Santa gift for the lovely Brie in the Doves & Sparrows discord server! This is my first time writing for this ship, but it’s a very cute one! And since they’ve got matching skins in game now, I drew some inspiration from that, and this is the end result! 
> 
> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

Satya had been human once.

They all had, a lifetime ago, every spirit and every demon. Even the gods themselves, no matter what they’d like you to think, had wandered the Earth in a mortal form before Death had claimed them.

She didn’t remember much of it, couldn’t even if she tried, for her memories were faded in a haze. Sometimes, she would catch a glimpse, just a little clearer than the rest. Like the taste of spices on her tongue that reminded her of a mother whose face she couldn’t see. Or like the warm summer days that reminded her of sweat and the soft begging for water. And although she couldn’t remember the life she had lived, she still remembered the time her mortal life had ended, just as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.

Apparently they all remembered that moment, clearer than the rest.

She had died with fire licking her legs, tearing at her skin. Arms tied behind her back, pressed against a wooden pole she couldn’t possibly escape from. The vile smell of burnt flesh. The way her throat hurt from the smoke and from her screams, curses falling from her cracked, dry lips in every language she had known.

Then Death had greeted her in the shape of a woman, a Witch of the Wilds who had heard her curses, who gave her a second chance while the village burned around them. It was neither a curse nor a blessing, but simply another life in another form.

They had been strangers back then, despite what her village had once claimed her to be, but she had been the one to show Satya the world and everything that had been hidden from her view until her soul turned ashen. The hidden doors visible only in moonlight, fairies creating circles in nature and portals to other worlds beyond theirs. Spirits, both lost and found, shaping the details around them, always following their season. Monsters and demons hiding in shadows and plain sight, infiltrating the minds of the weak.

And Satya wondered if that was what she had become.

 

*

 

It took a century before she returned to her village. Few things had remained the same over the years, the village rebuilt after the Witch had burnt it to the ground. And although her memories were faded, she still recognized its people. Perhaps not the same, but carrying the same blood, the same vile taste in the air, the same beliefs that had put her on that pyre in the first place.

And so, with sharp teeth bared and without an ounce of humanity left, she turned the village into ashes. She breathed her curses upon its people until nothing remained, nothing that spoke of the village that had once stood there, and nothing that spoke of her.

With her rage soothed, pain once more a distant memory, Satya quickly grew restless. She had no place to return to, not a trace of her past life remaining, nor could she follow the Witch of the Wilds. Because despite the Witch not being mortal, she still had a foot in their world, could wander to places where Satya could not.

“But don’t worry,” the Witch had told her, smile on her lips and she smoothed out the flames coating the dragon’s shoulders. “Time moves differently when you can’t die.”

 

*

 

During the years that followed, Satya watched as the land began to change.

The spirits of nature appeared, the ones that followed spring and summer, and they reclaimed what had once been theirs. Grass grew from the ashes, flowers of every colour, large trees that seemed to reach for the sky. Animals returned, caused a river to flow through the valley.

And when the mortals could no longer remember that there had ever been a village where a dragon had been born, humans began to cross the river. They wandered through the grass, picked the flowers and cut down the trees.

As Satya watched, a new village was built. New houses and new faces, yet she didn’t trust them, felt anger replace fear over a life so long ago.

“Have these mortals done you any harm?” the Witch asked her, resting against her staff. Hands clad in gloves to hide the stench of magic still etched in her skin, and Satya wrinkled her nose.

“No, but they might.”

“Mortals cannot see us, nor can they harm us.” The Witch gave her a smile. “Perhaps you should watch them instead. It seems like you need the reminder of how short and fragile a human life can be.”

Displeased with the Witch’s answer, yet with nothing better to do, the dragon settled down to watch. And as she watched, as the years turned into centuries, the village began to change.

It grew larger and larger to make room for the children and the newcomers, and when it could grow no longer in width, the humans started to create buildings so tall they rose above the oldest of trees. They created a new world, with smooth glass surfaces that reflected the sun, with minimalist design and yet with so much detail that Satya could stare for hours.

And as she watched, she realized that although the humans had changed so much, the land still remained the same. The river still flowed, a bridge built over it, and new trees began to grow in certain areas within the city. The animals adapted, birds stealing human food instead of finding fruit and insects on the ground.

She was approached then, as she wandered through the city, looking up at the tall buildings that reflected the skies. Fae and spirits, with curious gazes and magic at their fingertips, yet not brave enough to take on a dragon of fire and pain. Instead, they asked her a simple question.

“Are you the protector of this city?”

“Yes,” Satya answered, made a decision that would come to change everything. “I am. But you are welcome with your magic, as long as no mortal is harmed.”

It didn’t take long after that before the city became alive with a new type of wonder, rivalled by the mortal’s designs.

Fairies created doorways in the alleys, portals in the large trees in the green parks, made sure that no human could pass through even by accident. And if, by some strange chance, that they ended up in another world through an ill-placed portal or circle of mushrooms, they would wake up back in the city, drunk and with not a single hair out of place.

Spirits of spring and summer and autumn visited as the seasons passed, twirling around in the air as only spirits could. They made sure that the flowers always bloomed, that the trees remained green during even the coldest of summers, and that autumn always was kind with its colours and spices.

Two Witches, sisters from the Wilds, opened a bakery just down the street across from the park, with sweet pastries and desserts, freshly baked bread every morning. They greeted humans and immortals alike, took different payment from each, but never treated anyone differently.

The city bloomed, and although it was built on the ashes from her death, Satya finally felt at home.

 

*

 

Sometimes, when the moon wasn’t shining and when the wind was still, other creatures than fairies and spirits would visit.

Demons, with horns curling over their heads, with teeth so sharp they rivalled Satya’s, with too wide grins and false promises on their lips.

Monsters, with scales crawling over their skin, with wings folded on their backs and tail moving cautiously from side to side, and who perhaps didn’t look too different from the dragon herself.

Even gods, old and forgotten, with ancient eyes and whispering voices, who only passed by with the morning mist, never bothering to touch the human lives around them.

And although any other being might’ve covered in fear from demons and monsters, Satya was no fairy and no spirit. She was a dragon, and thus she bared her fangs with flame licking her shoulders and falling from her lips. Daring them to take one more step into her city. Daring them to harm the mortals under her protection.

Daring them to face her.

 

*

 

Humans were strange creatures, Satya came to rediscover. She supposed it wasn’t unusual, when your life was so fragile and when the smallest of things could end it, that you’d want to live the most of it while it lasted.

But humans were also destructive, careless in a way not even a spirit would be. They burned the world, scorched it and left marks that lasted for generations. They changed nature itself, poisoned it with machines and gas, and the summers grew shorter, the spirits growing more and more furious.

For the first time that Satya could remember, winter that year carried snow.

And that was when she met her.

 

*

 

She came during the night, when the city was asleep and the world was still.

With a chill at her fingertips, snow in her hair and skin as blue as ancient ice, she wandered through the city’s abandoned streets. She created crystals from nothing, some white and with the most complicated of patterns inside, others clear as ice, and when the morning came they reflected the sun so effortlessly, putting the human-made glass to shame.

Satya saw her for the first time in the park, sitting on the thin braches of an oak, a fairy portal just underneath. Snow fell off her shoulders, slow and steady, her eyes twinkling like morning rime.

She saw Satya before the dragon approached with her teeth bared and flames awakening upon her skin, and she seemed completely unfazed by the heat.

“Lovely city you have here,” the spirit spoke, voice as chilly as a winter’s day, yet carried a rare warmth. “I think I’ll stay for a while, if you don’t mind.”

“I do not know you,” Satya spoke, choosing her words carefully, for she didn’t know the extent of this spirit’s powers. “But if you harm any of the mortals-“

“Harm the mortals? Have you _seen_ them?” The spirit laughed, clear like crystal, and Satya felt her cheeks flush warm at the sound. “They harm themselves and everything around them. Is it cruelty then, when nature has its way?”

Satya narrowed her eyes, walked closer to the strange spirit, melting the snow around her until she finally stopped. She had to crane her neck a bit to meet the spirit’s cold eyes, and the spirit grinned back at her.

“You may not directly harm them,” she whispered, suddenly couldn’t find her voice, her breath visible in the air. The spirit leaned closer, and Satya could see the frost on her eyelashes. “Nor will you lead them down the path of destruction.”

The spirit lifted her hands in a mock surrender, winked at Satya as if they were human. “I’m no demon, I don’t seduce people. At least,” she murmured, looking Satya over, “not in that way.”

Feeling a new sort of warmth, all Satya could do was glare.

And so, she let the strange spirit be for the rest of the winter, avoiding her like the plague. She did keep a watchful eye on her from a distance, making sure that no harm came to the humans wandering in the city.

But the spirit of winter was mischievous, silly in a way that the humans seemed to appreciate. She was responsible for the smooth ice coating the streets in the morning, responsible then for a few broken bones and even more laughter as children brought out their skates. She was the one who created magic when Satya looked away for a moment, crystals of ice and snow hanging down from rooftops and trees, each pattern more complicated than the next. And she made a light snowfall seem magical, each and every flake catching the light and twinkling like falling stars.

It was breath-taking, in the most wonderful of ways, and Satya found herself staring at the symmetry that was hidden so carefully in all of her creations. She wondered what more she had missed over the years.

 

*

 

Winter passed quickly, because just like the Witch of the Wilds had said; time moves differently when you can’t die. The strange spirit with hair like snow soon moved on with the winds, giving Satya a brilliant smile before she disappeared.

Satya pretended she didn’t mind, that she didn’t care for a spirit who seemed so irresponsible. Yet, as spring came with its spirits and renewal, she couldn’t help but miss the playfulness and the symmetry of the early morning rime.

And the more she thought of it, the more her mind was drawn to icy cold eyes and frost in eyelashes, of blue skin and the pattern of snowflakes crawling over that skin, she became more and more convinced that the spirit had put a spell on her. It might be something dangerous, a curse spoken by a demon, because it might’ve not been a spirit of winter after all, but something much more dangerous.

Why else would her cheeks flame the way they did at the very thought of her?

And so, at midsummer when the sun awoke the flames upon her skin, Satya visited her old friend.

The Witch of the Wilds was a busy woman, hands no longer hidden in gloves, but flickering around quickly as she added more and more things to her brew. Spices and blood of a dragon, tulips and basilisk teeth, the first drop of rain in spring. To the side and watching was a figure with a nose as large as a potato, hair a long tangle upon their back, body covered in moss and leather. A human child in their arms. When Satya had entered, they had grinned at her with crooked teeth and held the child closer.

“Don’t mind Trulsa, she has a habit of exchanging her own children for a human’s,” the Witch said, stirring the brew until she deemed it done. Then she poured it up in a small vial, handing it to the waiting troll.

Deciding not to get involved in what other creatures did with the mortals, especially not trolls and demons, Satya watched the figure leave through a fairy portal carved out on the wall. Then she turned to the Witch, arms crossed as she regarded the unorganized chaos of the room. Nose wrinkling in disgust.

“I assume you have questions,” the Witch continued, wiping her hands on her dress. “Otherwise you wouldn’t visit me so soon.”

Satya cleared her throat. “There was a visitor.” A pause, the Witch raising a delicate eyebrow. “She had snow in her hair, frost on her eyelashes, skin as blue as the ancient ice up north. Her eyes-“ she sighed, soft and barely there. “Her eyes were a brilliant shade of blue. Like ice covering a lake, cold and chilly, and yet so terribly warm.”

The Witch blinked, let the words sink in, and then gave her a smile that could’ve easily rivalled that of a wolf’s. “I hear you’ve met Rime.”

“Rime?” Satya perked up, didn’t mean to. “Is that her name? Is she dangerous? Will she be a threat?”

“Rime, Rimfrost, Cencellada. She carries many names in many languages,” the Witch hummed, a knowing smile on her lips and Satya couldn’t figure out what exactly she seemed to know. “She isn’t the first frost in winter, but she is what follows. She is the ice and the delicate details of winter, and she is the crystals that reflect the sun upon the snow. Mortals go blind and mortals die from her beauty.”

The Witch’s smile spread wider, reaching out to brush some fire away from Satya’s hot cheeks.

“But you are no mortal.”

 

*

 

The next winter, Rime appeared once more.

This time, Satya greeted her as she arrived, riding on the cold northern winds, wearing a silly smile on her lips. And it might’ve just been Satya’s imagination, perhaps a bit of wishful thinking, that Rime perked up as their eyes met.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Rime murmured, stepped too close on her light feet, and Satya found it impossible to step back. “Lovely winter this year, wouldn’t you say? I believe we’ve outdone ourselves!”

“I have no part in this,” Satya huffed back, suddenly breathless as the spirit leaned closer, noses almost brushing. “I’m no spirit of the seasons.”

Rime studied her for a second, then hummed and straightened up, twirled around her like a snowflake dancing in the wind. “You certainly aren’t a spirit.” Cold traced her shoulders, a feather light touch that was never really there, and she repressed a shiver that threatened to run down her spine. “Yet I wouldn’t call you a monster.”

“You don’t know the things I have done.” Satya turned, met Rime’s cold gaze. “The things I can do.”

A laughter chimed between them as Rime took a step back, lingering in the air for a moment before letting her feet touch the icy ground.

“My little dragon,” she said, voice low and impossibly warm for a creature of frost. “I can create a snowstorm with the snap of my fingers. I can turn snow into crystals so sharp you lose your vision. But do you know why I’m not a monster?”

A pause and she leaned close once more, so close that Satya could feel the cold breath against her lips, ghosting over her cheeks and evaporating from her heat.

“Because I choose not to.”

 

*

 

Satya was sure Rime wasn’t an ordinary spirit. She hadn’t met a lot of other spirits, had never had a conversation longer than a few sentences with them, but there was something about Rime that made her _not ordinary_.

Because the years that followed, Rime would greet her every winter without fail, grinning so sharp and white that Satya started to understand the Witch’s words. With her, she brought ice and snow, days filled with an organised chaos, and days filled with a stillness so breath-taking that all the dragon could do was to stay completely still, afraid that her flames and heat would ruin the perfection.

Rime would laugh at her at that, would carefully trace a light touch over her hands and arms, afraid of touching because neither of them knew what would happen. Ice and heat never got along well.

So it was a mystery why they did.

Satya couldn’t figure it out, no matter how much she thought about it. She tried to spend more and more time with the spirit, becoming more and more convinced that she was under some kind of spell, despite what the Witch had said when asked about it. And for every winter, for every sharp grin and slow snowfall, for every light touch of cold against her skin, Satya felt a new kind of warmth. Different from the burning of fire, the one that licked her legs and tore at her skin, but a soft warmth from her very core.

A sort of warmth she hadn’t known she possessed.

And once she realized, once she could grasp that warmth from inside her, the world around her seemed just a little bit brighter.

For the first time since she had been burnt alive on a wooden pole, since the fire had breathed new life within her, Satya felt a tug of her lips. And as Rime appeared the next winter, wearing that familiar silly smile and spark in her eye, Satya returned the smile.

Warm and soft and so rare that Rime had paused, eyes wide and lips parted ever so slightly as she took in the sight, tried to remember it for the lifetimes to come.

After that, Satya found it hard to stop smiling.

 

*

 

One winter, Rime didn’t show up. It was a warm winter, didn’t allow any chance of snow, and the spirits of summer and autumn lingered longer than they should.

It was the loneliest year Satya had ever lived.

 

*

 

Time moves differently when you can’t die.

The Witch had told her that many times, yet Satya had never understood the meaning of it. She had thought that eternity would be shorter, that the life of a human was nothing compared to hers.

But as the warm winter passed without a hint of frost stuck in eyelashes or eyes so blue she felt like she was drowning, without a reason to smile, she realized that time had slowed down.

During spring, it crawled forward like a turtle on land, and she paid no attention to the flowers the spirits brought, nor of the new fairies that moved in underneath the large oak in the park.

During summer, it seemed to stand completely still, the warm days almost unbearable despite her being a creature of fire and ash. The spirits celebrated midsummer with dance and song in the park, fairies lighting up like fireflies, and even the two Witches were there with strawberries hidden in treats.

During autumn, it began to move a bit faster when Satya didn’t think of it, too busy talking to the spirits and fairies, trying to find rumours of Rime in the world. But once she became aware of time again, the days never seemed to end, the sun shining too warm and the temperature never dropping below minus.

An eternity had passed before winter finally arrived. And with it, Rime rode the northern winds, smiling as brightly as clear ice a cold morning.

Satya rose to greet her.

 

*

 

“Do you have any memories left?” Rime asked her one winter, when the sun hung low in the sky, the faintest hint of stars visible just above. “From your time as human?”

Satya blinked at her, had to pause and think for a moment, because it had been a long time since she had last felt human. Sometimes she forgot she had even wandered the Earth as a mortal once, a long time ago. Perhaps she had thought more about it then, when the wounds were still fresh and anger boiled in her blood. But the world had changed so drastically since then, with new faces and new ideas, and the mortals had shaped the land around them into something different.

And so, Satya took a deep breath and answered. “No. Sometimes it feels like I’m about to remember something, like a word stuck on the tip of my tongue.” A pause, a soft sigh, and she closed her eyes for a moment. “It always fades before I can catch it.”

Cold brushed by her hand, a hesitant breath, before Rime pulled back, still afraid that the dragon’s heat would evaporate her ice. Satya mourned the loss over something that was never there.  

“I believe we remember more at the start,” Rime spoke, choosing her words carefully, watching Satya with a gaze so intense she felt like she burning. A smile tugging on her lips, because she simply couldn’t help herself. “But there are things that linger. Like our names, or how we died.”

“Yes, I still remember that.” Satya leaned a bit closer, as close as she dared, knowing that Rime wouldn’t pull away even if she was burned. “I was killed. Burned alive as my family, my friends, everyone I had ever known, watched and did nothing.” A soft laughter and she averted her gaze to the city. “They called me a Witch, believed I had sold my soul to a demon or an ancient god. And so I showed them, those with the same blood and same curses generations after, just what a monster is capable of.”

There was a pause, and Rime’s gaze burned on her skin before the spirit followed her gaze out over the city. Let her feet dangle over the edge of the roof, the ice upon her skin reflected in the glass.

“But the world changes with time, and a new city was built from the ashes,” Satya murmured. “I wonder what my life would be like if I hadn’t allowed it.”

Rime hummed, glancing over at Satya with a silly smile on her lips, eyes twinkling like stars. “For starters, you would’ve never met me. And that alone would’ve been a disaster.”

Laughing, Satya leaned closer to Rime until she felt the chill against her skin. She could see the frost in her eyelashes, the small glitter of dust across the bridge of her nose, and her gaze flickered down to the dragon’s lips.

For a brief moment, Satya wondered what it would feel like to kiss her.

But it was a silly thought and she didn’t know what to feel as she forced herself to pull away slightly, mourning the loss of a temperature between them that almost seemed human.

“I remember my own death too,” Rime spoke in the silence that followed. “Stabbed in the back. Murdered in cold blood.” She chuckled at her own words, shaking her head slowly. “The way we die determine what we become next, if we so wish to continue.”

“Neither a gift nor a curse.”

Rime blinked up at her, something familiar in her eyes, and Satya felt that word on the tip of her tongue, unable to speak it as it slipped from her grasp. And the spirit didn’t smile as she spoke next, voice so soft that Satya barely heard her.

“Olivia. That was my name.”

And the dragon whispered her name, tested it upon her tongue, and that finally made Rime smile once more, something bright in her eyes.

They spent the rest of the day in silence, watching as the city woke and the mortals continued their lives under the watchful gazes of a dragon and a spirit.

 

*

 

The world seemed to grow a little bit colder after that. Rime reassured Satya that it wasn’t her doing, but the humans’ with their machines and funny ideas.

“A few years ago, they tried to set fire to the world,” she said, drawing the pattern of new rime hanging from the sign of the Witches’ bakery. “It is a wonder they haven’t brought on the apocalypse yet.”

But Satya didn’t complain. Because a colder world meant Rime could stay a little while longer, could smile a little brighter and create a little more perfect symmetry in the world of chaos around them. There was never a sense of rush, and they stole the time they needed, spent mornings on the rooftops and watching as the sun set Rime’s work ablaze. Spent their days wandering the city on streets smooth with ice, and the evenings and long nights, they watched as the fairies performed their magic.

When they were together, they made time their servant, always stretching it as far as it would allow them to. And their time together was a purpose in meaningless immortality, and Satya wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even though they spent an eternity of loneliness in-between.

 

*

 

As spring returned and the world was still cold enough for Rime to stay, creating shapes that weren’t symmetrical at all only to see Satya wrinkle her nose in displeasure, the Witch decided to pay them a visit.

The world seemed to slow down as she wandered through the streets, belonging in both worlds and yet nowhere at all. The fairies and spirits watched her from a distance, out of respect for the one who had brought most of them back to life, given them another chance.

“There seems to be a change in climate,” the Witch told them, amusement in her voice as she looked them both over. “Summers that seem to last forever. Winters that do the same. It leaves little time for spring and autumn, and I must say that the reason is quite peculiar.”

“We are not responsible for the mortals’ impact on the world,” Rime huffed, arms crossed over her chest and Satya had never seen her so defensive. Wondered if the Witch had been the one to bring her back as well, or if it had been someone else, with a poor sense of humour. “We were all mortal once, so I can’t claim I don’t understand them.”

The Witch hummed, head tilting slightly to the side. Then she turned to Satya, spoke in the voice of an old friend and of a being so ancient that not even the world seemed to remember her beginning. “I have given you advice many times in the past, and I hope you listen to me now.”

A pause, a moment of stillness in the air, Satya listening with her breath stuck in her throat.

“You were born of this place, but you don’t have to linger.”

 

*

 

Rime left soon thereafter, as the thaw claimed her creations once more. And they parted without words, reaching out and yet never touching, always mourning what they feared to lose.

The year that followed would later become one of those faded memories, spent thinking and making decision that would come to change everything. The Witch visited her often that year, enjoying the fresh bread of her sisters, helping the fairies with their portals and chasing away any demon or monster curious enough to come a little too close.

With the first fall of snow, Satya made her final decision.

And so, when Rime returned with the winds of winter, Satya reached out for her. A touch, as light as a breath a chilly day, and yet never connecting. A question in her eyes, because she wasn’t sure if Rime would want this, would want her, if it truly was reality and not a complex curse spoken by a strange spirit. Rime looked back at her with wide eyes, keeping herself from leaning into that touch, a faint fear in the blue of her eyes.

Satya took a deep breath, a simple dare upon her lips as she leaned closer. This time, she didn’t hesitate, didn’t stop, because Rime didn’t pull away as their lips met. Fire and ice in a perfect order in this imperfect world.

And they realized that they burned just as bright.

Satya pulled back only a breath, fingers brushing the spirit’s cheek and sending waves of heat through ice that couldn’t be melted. She spoke with a voice so soft that she could barely be heard in the stillness of the night. “When the snow thaws and the winds leave, take me with you.”

All Rime could do was close that distance between them, pressing her answer against the dragon’s lips.

 

*

 

They made a promise that night, sealed with a kiss both had longed for, had awaited after so many eternities apart. A touch of humanity in creatures born from pain.

When the spring came, and the snow began to thaw and the winds picked up, Rime wrapped her arms around Satya and held her close. Refused to let go as the wind carried them away, far from a land built on ashes and pain, never to return.

And so they became, not perhaps spirits, but something else entirely. Always twirling around each other in the air, creating a perfect symmetry and order in a world of chaos. Bringing the coldness and warmth of winter.

It was not a curse, nor was it a blessing, but a second chance to become what they should be. And if it took a death of fire and pain, if it took lifetimes and eternities of loneliness in the wait for the other, then they supposed they could live with it.

After all, they had an infinity to spend together.


End file.
